Drabble Assortment
by Marzi
Summary: Assortment of various drabbles written around the A/R pairing.
1. Other Comforts

He couldn't always be there for her treatments, and without the soothing effect of his voice Laura turned to other comforts.

When she was left alone, her stomach turning and diloxin in her blood, she pulled the book they were currently reading to her chest and just breathed it in. One smell that doesn't make her nauseous. The soft musk of ink and time pressed into the bindings could transported her to a warmly lit room with a comfortable couch, drowning out the scratch of hospital sheets and harsh lights.

Laura took a breath and knew it smelled like home.


	2. Log Book

Cain frowned, inching her finger closer to the line of text, isolating it from the words surrounding it. The pages in the logbook were once again being filled by Commander Adama, the few sentences at the top noted his release from sickbay. His injury, however, was not what held her interest.

Her finger traced over the uneven words.

_Conferred with Cottle, President Roslin's cancer is terminal._

The statement was stilted, unusual amidst the other language he used in the log, even while recovering. It was practically prose next to Tigh's hasty scribble days earlier of 'Roslin announces she's dieing to Quorum' but it stood out, so she latched onto it.

The use of the title was startling, as at the time Roslin had been deposed, and a rogue agent hiding in the fleet. It wasn't the most telling marker. The letters were stiff, and she could see an ink blot where the pen had been pressed down on the paper for too long after writing the 'l' in 'terminal'. There was a waver, in the first 'c' of cancer, gone by the second.

She ran her forefinger over the ink, imagining the trembling of his hand as he wrote it.


	3. Final Piece

Laura stared at the last aerial photo from the surveillance crew. They might as well have taken a picture of the space between the stars for all that remained of the Earth. Irradiated. Inhospitable. Cold.

Warmth seeped into her when Bill laced his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand.


	4. Bedside

The hand on his shoulder wasn't startling, but Cottle moved quickly once he was aware of the other man's presence.

"Go, get your ass in that chair," he grumbled, pushing Bill forward.

The Admiral didn't bother looking towards him, but his expected murmur of 'thank you' still reached him. Sherman moved away from Laura's bedside, lighting a cigarette as he did so. She woke up if he started at her side, and he needed to let her get as much rest as possible.

Besides, he knew she preferred to open her eyes to the sight of Bill watching over her.


	5. Time and Again

"You're a hopeless romantic, you know."

The blonde caught sight of his sharp suit from the corner of her eye, and ignored him.

"No matter how much time you try to give them, it won't change what happens."

"Perhaps," she leaned into him, eyes on two figures at the end of the room.

"He's noticed your interfering."

"Yes, he doesn't mind."

"All that 'this has happened before and will again' does get tiring. Even on the little things."

They stayed and watched as Bill read to Laura, curled up on her hospital bed, as they had done countless times before.


	6. Doc's Perogrative

The best part about patching people up is getting to yell at them for the stupid things they did to get that way. Sherman Cottle is looking forward to the end of the dance, when he gets to remind those who participated what idiots they are.

Watching Bill in the ring with the Chief, he's not sure who frakked up and got hurt. Bill, with his bleeding face? This ship, its people, in seeing him that way?

Someone needs a cuff to the back of the head (as long as they aren't concussed) as far as he can tell.

Through the ring and the fighters, he catches sight of Laura. He isn't surprised to see her so close to the action. One of her hands in wrapped around the ropes, and as Bill gets beaten back into the corner, she uses her other hand to reach out to him.

Sees the shock, the hurt on her face at his (relatively) self-inflicted pain.

No matter the outcome of the fight, Shermen knows he's going to knock Adama in the side of the head.

If there's one thing he can't stand more than people hurting themselves, it's when they hurt each other.


	7. What is love?

You have wondered about love for a long time. Wanted to hold it, understand what it meant.

It is something you have gleaned in soft, small, ways before. Typically after you almost-guiltily access Caprica's memory of Baltar. It is something that almost broke your sister. You thought it had been breaking Laura Roslin earlier- as her voice shook and she nearly cried. (_He's alive. He is alive_)

Yet in this moment- when you were so sure the tears that hid earlier would fall out into the open- she strikes back.

It is electric, and you find it almost hard to breath at the passion this dying woman shows. It is a fire that will burn cold, those who would seek to douse it will be consumed. In this moment you and your siblings are held by it too- will strike out, for this woman in love commands it so.

This is the love that you have sought after. It will empower you even as you are shackled to it. It is raw, visceral- and yes, it can break you- but it can also temper and steel you.

If God truly is love, then in that moment you will worship Laura Roslin.


	8. Just Sleeping

Laura Roslin sleeps  
Today she will still awake  
Bill holds her closer


	9. Prompt 'Red

She's too pale. Color and life draining out of her.

The remaining highlights he sees are in her eyes. In the tiny, angry red lines that show her sleeplessness and strain. In the puffy pink skin around them, a tribute to frustrated and pain filled tears. His touch is likely to bruise and darken, even as he is gentle, rather than raise a healthy flush to her skin.

He sees her like this and hopes one day it's just a memory.

Bill doesn't want to remember a vivacious body with red curls, and healthy blushing skin.

He wants to see it.


	10. Sense of Direction

"This is ridiculous," Laura sighed.

"You just feel ridiculous."

"Exactly," she tugged at the cloth over her eyes.

"Stop cheating," Bill admonished.

"I am not... Stop doing that."

He adjusted the blindfold so that it was back over her eyes. "You're the one who said you could find your way around in the dark."

"_Colonial One_. I could navigate my quarters on _Colonial One_ in the dark."

"_Colonial One_ is a giant corridor, there's nothing to navigate. No backing out, I'm letting go now."

"What? Bill, I-"

"Just follow my voice if you can't trust your sense of direction."

"My sense of direction is-_ ow!_"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes.. What was that, the table?"

He chuckled. "One of the chairs. What are you-? _Ow!_"

"Those cushions _do_ come off."

"Don't throw things while you're blindfolded!"

"I managed to hit you, didn't I?"

"Yes, but- Laura, stop-"

"I take it the cold floor means I've fallen into the head."

"Yes."

"Bill, I'm taking the blindfold off."

"By all means, Madame President."

"Don't call me that right after I've fallen on my..."

"Laura?"

"Were you standing by your rack this entire time?"

"Yes, why?"

"I could have sworn you were by the bookcase."


	11. The Show

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this." Bill stared at himself in the mirror, wondering if it was too late to back out now that he was dressed.

Laura threw a boa over his shoulder and he tried to scowl at it. The sleek feathers shimmied as she shook it, beginning to wrap it around his neck to keep it in place.

"It'll be fun Bill, stop complaining. Ellen and Saul are going too."

He supposed he could commiserate with his best friend at the show, but he wasn't sure it was worth the fright of seeing Laura and Ellen actually get along for once. Or going outside in this outfit. Or seeing Saul in a similar outfit, the thought made him shudder.

"C'mon, we're going to be late."

Bill hastily pulled on his long coat, having won out the argument with Laura about not letting the neighbors see him like this- they had little kids, for frak's sake. The boa tickled his chin.

Laura began humming some insufferably catchy tune in the car, and smacked his hand with her feather duster when he tried to reach for the radio.

"Who are you supposed to be anyway?" He asked, eyeing her skimpy maid outfit appreciatively. The fact she had dressed up too alleviated the situation slightly.

"Magenta."

Bill couldn't recall any names from the ridiculous film she had shown him last night, and just grunted.

"Saul is going as Riff-Raff-"

_Dear God, what?_

"-and Ellen will be Janet Weiss."

"Who am I again?" He adjusted his foot on the gas pedal, trying to work out how women drove in high heels.

"You," Laura purred, working one hand into his coat. "Are Doctor Frank-N-Futer." Her fingers went through his tattered fishnets to grab his thigh.

"I'm a hot dog?!"


	12. Demonstration

"Tell me Commander, do you preform all duties you ask of those who serve under you?" She pushed her skirt up.

"Surely Madame President, as a former school teacher, you understand the importance of a good demonstration before a new assignment." His statement was punctuated by his belt falling open.


	13. First Decree

"Good to see some people following your first presidential decree."

"That was not a decree," Laura's admonishment was completely ruined by the smile on her face.

"Could have been," he teased, still able to recall Saul's words from the day the world ended.

Her eyes darkened, thoughts drawn back to a different decision and Bill grasped her hand.

"It didn't have to be," she spoke in a whisper, but he could still hear her regret.

Laura leaned into his side, and they remained silent as the priest concluded the ceremony. The month old twins on table before him burbled happily.


	14. Growing

"They grow so fast," Laura sighed. "It seems like just yesterday they were barely at my knee."

Bill chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Next thing you know, you'll be looking up at them."

"One day," she agreed. "If the weather stays good."

"Our babies will do fine," he kissed her neck. "The grafting and cross-pollinating have made for a sturdier breed."

"That's what you said last year."

"They made it last year, too."

Laura hummed in response, keeping her eyes on the neat row of new growth in her garden bed. The green buds swayed softly in the breeze.


End file.
